


Freedom for your free heart

by SteeleyK



Category: Persona 5
Genre: 2/2, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Confessions, M/M, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, its mainly just them figuring out what they feel, third semester spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleyK/pseuds/SteeleyK
Summary: Akira had his priorities straight - first they deal with the fake reality and once all of it is settled, he will confront Akechi Goro about the "thing" that is going on between them. There is no need to face his hormone-fueled teenage emotions head-on this very second, right? But on the eve of Maruki's palace, Akira realises that there is only so much time you get to take your seconds chances before they are yanked away and he just cannot let Akechi go like that.AKA the boys deserve a better goodbye
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 12
Kudos: 141





	Freedom for your free heart

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be much shorter originally but the characters just wouldn't leave each other alone. :D
> 
> As much as I enjoyed the bloodthirsty third-semester Akechi, I felt like it was a little bit one dimensional, so I tried to add some layers to him. Also, I made Morgana a bit more understanding towards Akechi as he is the embodiment of human hope, after all and I always found him a bit too crass towards the poor pancake boy.
> 
> Finally, there is explicit content but it is a bit more awkward than sexy at times because hey, that’s how it sometimes is!

“Well then… I will see you tomorrow.” Akechi glances back at him before he pulls on the door handle, shadows over his eyes. Akira feels like there is something he is looking for in him and hopes that maybe they will be able to talk about all the implications Maruki’s revelation laid out for them to see. That maybe for once in his life, Akechi will allow himself to be vulnerable. That maybe he won’t leave. He does and Akira’s heart suffers a tiny implosion.  
“Akechi, wait!” It takes him a minute to start reacting, as if the blood in his veins has frozen over, limbs too heavy with ice to move. Running outside of Le Blanc, Akira scans the street quickly, trying to determine which way Akechi took, ready to dart after him. But to his astonishment, in the darkening street, he recognizes a silhouette leaning against the wall just a little way off the cafe’s entrance. Akechi’s gloved palms lift involuntarily as he glances towards the frantic chime of the bell. Before Akira can breathe, before he can think, before he can stop himself, he closes the distance between them and dives around Akechi’s neck, catching him in a tight embrace. Akechi lets out a surprised sound and stumbles before supporting their combined weight against the wall. Akira is ready for a push, followed by a mocking scowl, the final rejection after so many. But it never comes. Instead, Akechi takes a shaky breath and puts gentle, tentative hands around his back.  
“Akira,” he murmurs, voice strained.  
Akira is hot and cold at the same time, trying to push back tears in his eyes, to stifle cries in the back of his throat. Being surrounded by Akechi’s warm smell raises all the confusing emotions at once and they crash back in one devastating wave, sweeping away all the doubts and rational thoughts, leaving only one clear feeling in its wake.  
“Akechi…” He starts but the name is too distant in his mouth, too formal to contain all that he feels towards the other boy. “Goro, I am so sorry.” Silent sobs are forming deep in his belly, his heart is skipping two beats at once. “I… I didn’t… I couldn’t… I thought... “ he takes a gulp of air, filling his lungs, well aware of how desperate he sounds and how unforgiving can Akechi be of any weakness. Akechi on his part doesn’t say anything, taking long breaths through his nose as if steadying himself. “I thought that we will have time… after all this… that we will still,” he stops, frightened by the sudden clarity of what he had hoped for, “figure this out… I... “ he loses all the resolve in his voice. He wishes he could be more like Joker in the real world too, drawing on the confidence of Arsene laughing in his bones, never faltering. But Joker is always left in the hazy worlds of palaces, where steps are quiet and backflips defy gravity. “I didn’t realize that this is it.” Defeated, he buries his face deep into the folds of Akechi’s scarf.  
When Akechi speaks, his voice is low, almost tender but decisive. “Akira… Don’t make it harder than it needs to be. What is going to happen is quite simple. We will face Maruki tomorrow. And we will defeat him. And then we will go back to our reality. Where the paths have been chosen and there is nothing left to figure out...” His words are composed and calculated. Yet his own body betrays him as Akechi’s arms are now firm around Akira, his face pressing into Akira’s neck. “We will face Maruki together,” he repeats and pulls away from the hug a little, searching Akira’s face. “And after everything is settled, you will be able to live free. That’s all I am able to give you now, Akira. Freedom for your free heart.”  
He slowly reaches and gently brushes Akira’s cheeks, as his tears finally find their way out. “There now, I don’t want your pity. Save it for someone who deserves it.” Akira shakes his head slowly. That’s not a pity, he is trying to convey but his voice does not follow. Instead, he pathetically gasps for air and swallows another sob.  
“How can you be so goddamn calm?”  
Akechi’s smirk is almost amused. “Well… How has being upset worked for you so far?”  
Akira frowns. Of course it hasn’t worked because he cannot think over the burning knot in his stomach but… “But Goro… you will die. You will fucking die tomorrow.” He hates how his voice breaks on the word die both times.  
“Hey, Akira… I have already done it once. Assuming, this time I won’t be shot in the head by a cognitive version of myself, it cannot be that bad.” he chuckles but his eyes are downcast. “It is perfectly apt, isn’t it. After all I have done, it is only right I get to die twice. I should die thousand times over, I guess.”  
“That’s just… are you…” Akira stops as he sorts out his thoughts. “Not scared?” _I am scared _, he doesn’t finish. _I’m scared of the world where you are no longer a possibility. I am scared of the empty space where your hands should be. _  
That gives Akechi a pause. “I don’t think I am. There was…” he weighs his words, “...nothing between the engine room and me finding you on Christmas Eve. I am not sure I can actually fully comprehend it, you know, this nothingness. I mean… How does one understand his own self simply not existing?” There is that little, bitter laugh again and Akira flinches hearing it. “But I am sure there was no pain and there was no anger. And I am so ready not to feel like that anymore. I am just so fucking tired, Akira.” He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t. Then something snaps and he leans forward and rests his forehead against Akira’s shoulder, crumbling into the other boy. Akira presses his cheek into Akechi’s hair and they both breath in the same rhythm for a while.  
“I am so sorry I could not save you, Goro. I really, really wanted to save you.” Akira whispers and Akechi lets out a sound, which could be both a chortle or a sob.  
“I know Akira. I know… But I did not deserve to be saved. There is no place for me in this world, anymore. And there hardly was one before,” he lifts his head and looks into Akira’s eyes, his voice now warm but breaking a little bit. “So, Akira, no matter what happens, you will let me go, ok?” Akira stares into his chestnut eyes, feeling wasted, exposed and crumpled. But he nods. Because what else can he do?  
“Good, thank you.” He smiles a little, sorrowful smile, far from his plastic princely grins. The real-life Akechi looks so different from his perfect and charming TV personality. He has this melancholic kind of beauty that makes Akira’s heart ache so much. He wants to protect this Akechi Goro and whisper that it is ok now, that despite what he thinks, there is a place for him in this world and he doesn’t need to let go of life yet because they are together and he won’t let anything happen to him and he won’t let him be controlled again even if he accepts the deal. But he knows that none of it is actually in his power.  
He slowly runs fingers through Akechi’s hair, along his neck, across his jawline, tracing his features like he wants to commit them to tactile memory, to feel them every time he closes his eyes. Akechi’s perfect skin tingles under a cold touch and the world feels charged with each small gesture. Akechi catches Akira by the wrist and leans into his touch, his eyes glowing with encouragement and need.  
“Goro, I... “ What else is there left to say? He wants to say so much more but every word he knows seems to be somehow insufficient to explain his feelings. The excitement he felt when Akechi found him in the crowd for the first time, the breakneck speed his brain worked at when he was trying to keep up with him, the small heart-stopping touches, somehow electrifying. The feeling of unbearable heartache when he betrayed them. The overarching grief when he died alone on the cold floor of his father’s cursed ship. The shocked relief when he came back. There is no way to encompass it all. Not in speech, anyway. So Akira leans forward instead and Akechi closes the rest of the way.  
They collide into each other and their movements are frenzied, the kiss clumsy and eager, teeth getting in the way at first, before they figure out the lip movements, before Akira takes off his glasses, before their lips part a little, and their tongues start touching carefully. Stray hands move deliberately across their bodies, exploring. Akechi sighs into the kiss as if bits of him are dissolving and falling apart. Akira pulls him in closer, hoping to hold him together.  
Lost in themselves, they forget where they are. Someone hurries past, steps frantic and too loud, which makes them both jump. February streets are mercifully quiet but in the end they are still two boys kissing in a public space. Akechi ruffles Akira’s hair and then lets him go, brushing invisible dust off his coat, straightening his scarf. Akira puts his glasses back on.  
“Ha, we are making quite a spectacle of ourselves.” Akechi says and rubs his flushed cheeks.  
Akira shrugs. “It’s not like they will remember any of it tomorrow anyway. So, I don’t care.”  
“I can’t say I care either. But still…” They are silent, hovering a few inches from each other, unsure what to do now. Akechi starts moving his lips but Akira jumps in, panicking that Akechi will take this opportunity to leave.  
“Do you want to come back in? We don’t have to do anything… we can just chat.”  
Akechi takes a minute to answer and Akira’s damned heart almost stops. “I don’t see why not.”  
“Ok. Cool,” is all Akira is able to say to that. He has always been a charmer. ____

The cafe is almost unbearably warm and Akira realizes how cold he must have been the entire time. His glasses immediately fog up and he pushes them into his hair, before turning around and locking the door. Akechi slowly takes off his scarf and gloves, hanging the camel jacket on the back of the chair that he slides in. Akira steps behind the counter without thinking, his hands busy and his mind blank. Brewing coffee is like meditation at this point, practiced movements and precise timing. He slides a cup towards Akechi when it’s ready and watches him take a sip. He thinks back to August when Akechi came to Le Blanc and let his mask slip a little, and Akira, who at that point was hanging out with him for about two months, realized how much trouble he was actually in.  
Akira grabs the edges of the counter and stretches far back and low, placing his forehead on the back of his hands, nervous energy emanating from his movements. “I don’t know how I will ever get over you,” he finally concedes, turning his head to avoid Akechi’s eyes, focusing on the blank TV screen instead.  
Akechi chokes on his coffee a little and considers him carefully. Then the horrible prince detective smile appears and his tone of voice is irritatingly pleasant when he says: “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that. Soon enough, Kitagawa will come out of the closet and it will be smooth sailing from thereon. He is a very pretty man. He is a bit strange but given I seem to be your first choice, I bet that you find it quite endearing.”  
Akira snorts an unhappy laugh and keeps looking to the side. He swears if he glances at Akechi, he will start crying again.  
“Unless you are more into the bleached blond and vulgar types. I wouldn’t hold my breath for him. That boy is almost aggressively heterosexual.” Akira is just shaking his head, still looking to his right, eyes boring into the wooden wall now, which helps him soothe his nerves with how utterly boring it is. Akechi taps the porcelain mug with his long delicate fingers and scoffs.  
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I am fairly certain I won’t get over you until the day I die.” He offers. Akira finally turns to Akechi, staring at him in silent disbelief. “Which is tomorrow… hey, that was supposed to make you smile at least. What I am trying to say is I feel the same way as you do. If that somehow wasn’t clear yet.”  
“Yeah, I think I’ve figured that one out.” Akira runs a hand over his face and rakes through his hair. He can’t stop thinking how this might be the last time Akechi drinks coffee. How there are not many times left for him to mindlessly tuck his hair behind his ear before tomorrow, that sweet little gesture Akira was always hyper-aware of. Akira’s messed up brain is trying to count how many breaths does Akechi have left, how many heartbeats. He always comes up with a number that is unfairly low. He feels tears building up and then they spill over in little streams of mourning.  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he swears under his breath and tries to wipe his pathetic eyes in the sleeve of his blazer. Akechi is watching him, sipping his potentially last cup of coffee. Akira is very conscious of what a hot mess he must look, his eyes puffy, his nose red and running. Normally, he would hate anyone seeing him like that. But he doesn’t care now. All he wants is for Akechi to keep looking at him forever because that way Akechi won’t leave. He finally finds something that resembles composure and makes a mental leap of faith.  
“Do you want to stay the night?”  
Akechi misses a beat, just for a second. “To chat?” He laughs quietly into his cup.  
“If that’s what you want to do then yeah… we can chat.” Akira shrugs. _Whatever you want, Goro, as long as you are here. _  
“Right. It is my last day on Earth, after all, isn’t it? I get to call the shots, so to speak.” He gets up and walks around the counter. Hesitantly, Akira is following his every step, feeling like anytime now he will just stop breathing and drop dead and maybe that would be for the best. “I do want to stay.” Akechi says, stopping in front of Akira and resting hands on his hip, uncertain at first but then confidently sliding them up as he leans in to whisper. “But I don’t want to chat.” His thumbs hook over the edge of Akira’s pants and pull him closer, Akira whimpering as he falls into the kiss. They start slow, rediscovering the intimacy they shared in the street, Akira tasting coffee on Akechi’s wet lips and tongue. And then Akechi shoves him against the shelves, leaving him breathless as the jars clatter behind. Akira’s hands slide along Akechi’s back, instinctively pressing himself against the other body until they both let out little whines. He tears away from Akechi’s mouth, catching his breath.  
“Fine by me,” he finally manages and pushes Akechi towards the stairs. __

The light is dim in the attic, catching on the tiny specs of dust dancing in the early evening air. Akechi stumbles on the last step and Akira uses the opportunity to pin him against the wall, pressing kisses along his neck and jaw, fingers fumbling with the first few buttons of Akechi’s crisp white shirt, before giving up and pulling it over Akechi’s head. He sheds his blazer and throws his glasses on the table next to the stairs. Unsure what to do next, he kisses Akechi across his neck and along his collarbones, before being dragged up and directed firmly towards the bed in the corner.  
They stumble onto it, kicking their shoes off, Akechi wrenching Akira’s T-shirt away, before drawing him on the top of him in a deep kiss. The skin is prickling with heat under their inquisitive hands. Akechi stops for a second and gasps as Akira bites his shoulder. He grabs a fistful of Akira’s hair, tilting his head towards him and finding his grey eyes.  
“Have you done this before?” Akira thinks about lying for a second, surely the couple of times at his hometown, when he kissed an older schoolmate behind the building during a lunch break and it got a bit handsy, count as something. But then he figures there is no point in not telling the truth and shakes his head. Akechi sighs mockingly. “ Great. That makes two of us. Guess we will have to work it out together then.” He dips his head and licks Akira's nipple, sending shivers down his spine.

Akira finds everything about Akechi’s body fascinating. The fine hair on his forearms, so light they are almost invisible. The three freckles, aligned perfectly with the collarbone. The flushed cheeks and blown pupils. The slightly chipped front tooth. The chapped lips and velvet tongue, finding their way up Akira’s neck and behind his ear. How he softly moans when Akira tangles fingers in his hair and gently pulls. The delicate web of white and red scars across Akechi’s chest, some circling all the way to his back. Akira rubs his thumb over a particularly nasty looking one.  
“Are these from the Metaverse?” he asks quietly and Akechi contemplates his answer.  
“Some of them,” he says and Akira already doesn’t like how ominous this sounds. “Some of them are... not. I was a very clumsy child with a nasty habit of getting in the way.”  
Akira wants to yell in frustration. He wants to yell at Masayoshi Shido for sending his fifteen year old son into the Metaverse to murder people. He wants to yell at all the foster parents who were too quick to raise their hand at the child that was not their own. He wants to yell at the Phantom Thieves, the literal heroes of justice, for failing to see past the facade and not trying to help Akechi, instead using him and discarding him like a broken toy to advance their own plans, just like his shitty father had used him, just like Yaldabaoth had used him in his game of cosmic chess. He wants to yell at himself for going along with it despite everything he felt. He doesn’t yell. Instead he traces the long scars with his lips, letting them guide him lower and lower, until Akechi moans again when he starts planting kisses around his navel. Akira grins against Akechi’s skin. Daring now, he lets his hand wander, all featherlight touches and teasing. First, he places it on Akechi’s inner thigh before slowly dragging it up. He can feel Akechi is hard through the fabric of his pants and this makes his head spin unexpectedly. He pulls himself up on the top of the other boy and carefully places his forearms around Akechi’s head, experimentally rocking his hips. Akechi bites his lip and the sounds he makes are lewd and driving Akira insane.  
Akechi wraps his legs around Akira and interlaces their fingers, pulling him desperately closer, like he wants them to melt together. And then, somehow, Akechi is on top, clawing at Akira’s belt, peeling his jeans and his underwear off, Akira willingly shifting his weight to make it easier. He lets Akechi get rid of his own pants and hauls him back onto himself. He feels Akechi’s erection against his thigh and his breath hitches in his lungs. Suddenly, his brain jumps to all the porn he has watched and Akira realizes how miserably unprepared he is for anything that could transpire. In his mind he adds up a list of things he doesn’t own with condoms and lube featuring embarrassingly high on the list.  
“Goro.” He pushes Akechi away from the crook of his neck, where he was intently figuring out a hickey, his eyes glazed over a little, his lips swollen.  
“Mhm?”  
“I… I don’t have…”  
“You don’t have what?” Akechi blinks and focuses on Akira, his mind already racing to reach for all the possible answers.  
“You know, things… and I don’t think I am… p-prepped?”  
“Whatever you mean by that, Akira?”  
“Ah, I… ummm…” his cheeks are burning with a different kind of hot and he is desperately searching for the right words until he notices devilish sparkle in Akechi’s eyes and how a small smirk is tugging on his lips. Of course he knows exactly what he means.  
“You are an asshole!” Akira shouts and throws a pillow at Akechi, who swats it away easily.  
“And that is surprising to you how exactly?” Akechi laughs and is on top of him in an instant, sealing his lips in another kiss, pinning Akira’s wrists above his head for a moment before releasing him and pressing their noses together gently.  
“Relax, Akira,” he whispers, reassuring and sweet, “given that the experience we both have seems to barely add up above zero, I don’t think we will be going that far. Even though I appreciate the sentiment. Wanting to give me a full ride tonight,” he remarks, his nails digging into Akira’s side, ruining any tenderness of the moment. Theatrically, Akira smacks the back of his head and then presses him closer, nipping at his earlobe, newly found easiness almost tangible between them.

It’s easy to forget everything when they are naked. There is no more Metaverse, no more Phantom Thieves or Personas, even the city, otherwise always present through the single glazed windows, becomes nothing else than a white noise. There is no dream world or twisted fates, only the attic above a coffee shop and the lips on Akira’s mouth, the roaming hands on his body, and the hot desire pooling between his legs, begging for release. They lay side by side, lips locked, gripping at each other and stroking in the same rhythm, gentle, questioning at first, then hungry and wanting, their hands firm, kisses abandoned mid way in loud moans and quite pleading for more.

They fall apart panting, hearts racing against each other in their chests. Akira swallows and his throat burns as if he just ran a marathon. He scrambles to his feet, grabs a towel and flops back onto the bed, carefully wiping them both. Akechi stretches, his eyes half-closed, letting himself to be taken care of, his movements lazy. A cat in the Sunday sun. Akira watches him for a long time, content, not even trying to push away troubling thoughts as at that moment, there aren’t any.  
“God, you have no right to be this pretty.”  
Akechi laughs like he has never heard him laugh before. Like he is free and young and full of life. Akira can’t help but join in, pulling himself closer, their foreheads touching, eyes lighting up in the shared happiness.  
“I mean, I would be offended but you did meet my father. I guess I was lucky I took after my mother in this case.” He presses his lips next to Akira’s ear, his hot breath tickling. “You are not shabby looking yourself, you know.” Akechi runs his fingers through Akira’s hair and kisses him delicately, deepening their kiss until they are entangled again and their pulse is rising, their breathing shallow and ragged.  
“I love you,” Akira breathes out, reaching his hand and stroking Akechi’s face. Akechi recoils from his touch and his head drops low, his body sagging to Akira’s side, one hand still wrapped around his chest.  
“Ah, I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t say that tonight.” He mumbles and his tears are hot, dripping onto Akira’s shoulder. Akechi turns on his back and wipes the tears with the heel of his hand. “Fuck you, Kurusu.” Akira feels insecure and confused. Did he misunderstand earlier? Did he overstep imaginary boundaries? His eyes are wide as he is staring at Akechi, his mouth slightly agape which makes the other boy laugh when he turns to face him. “Stop looking like someone kicked a puppy to a curb. I love you too, you moron. It was just easier to let go of this dream before you said it, that’s all.” He kisses Akira’s temple.  
“But you knew how I felt before.”  
“Yeah, I knew. Still, it’s different when said out loud. It feels more real somehow. Or something. Ugh, so sappy.” Akechi's voice turns into a low growl. “Fuck you, Akira, for not meeting me earlier. Fuck you for making me realize that despite the fangirls queueing to see me I was indeed into pretty boys. Fuck you for being so god damn adorable with your feelings and cute nose.” Akechi rumbles as he kisses Akira’s face over and over again.  
“Yeah, fuck me, Goro.” Akira laughs, relieved, lust rekindled as he slides his hand down and touches Akechi’s lower abdomen, feeling him shiver underneath his palm before reaching lower. “Well, what are you waiting for then?”

In the end, despite the urge still settling between them driving them both into moments of hot madness, there is much more crying than Akira would care to admit. To his surprise, Akechi cries too as if openly admitting his feelings helped him to take off the remains of his mask and toss it on the pile with their discarded clothes, sadness now anchoring itself in his warm eyes. It’s about 4 am when they are finally too tired to do anything else but sleep. Akechi puts on his underwear and one of Akira’s black t-shirts before sliding under covers and opening his arms for Akira to climb in. Burying into his chest, Akira swears to himself he will never wash that particular top again. He feels warm and fuzzy tiredness in his limbs, but his eyes are heavy and bloodshot, the crazy highs and lows of the day wrapped up in one another. Akechi’s breath settles and Akira hopes he will at least regain some peace in his dreams.

Just before he falls asleep, Akira hears a quiet _tap, tap, tap _on the windowpane and he leans over Akechi’s sleeping shape to open it. The February wind rushes in as Morgana finds his way through, his tail flicking.  
“Are you ok?” He whispers, blue eyes reflecting the outside lights like pools in the dark.  
“I… no. I don’t think so. Sorry…” He stopped wondering a long time ago how Morgana knows stuff.  
“Oh, Akira… that’s ok. I didn’t expect you to be.” Morgana hums gently and then curls up between the pillow and the wall above their heads. “I will be here if you need me. Either of you,” he adds, and Akira realizes Akechi is watching them with tired, cautious eyes. He pulls him closer and they fall into an uneasy sleep. __

He wakes up to Goro hunched over himself, crying quietly into Morgana’s fur, the cat nuzzling his face and purring low, soothing sounds. Sitting up, Akira reaches his hand and rests it on Akechi’s back in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture.  
“Goro?”  
“Why, Akira? Why the fuck is it so hard all of a sudden…? I was so sure, almost content that this is the way I have to go and now I don’t want to give up…”  
Akira pulls Akechi to his chest, letting him grab onto his pyjamas top, Morgana hopping onto his lap, still purring. _Because in the end, despite all the big talk and bravado, we are just teenagers caught up in something so much bigger than us. Because you are not the homicidal maniac you pretend to be, just a boy who wanted to mean something for someone. Because I’ve found you and you’ve found me. _  
“Because we belong together. We always have. And we always will. And now you know it too.” He brushes his fingers over Akechi’s pale cheekbones, pulling him into a long, calming kiss.__

And then it is morning and everything feels dull.

They don’t hold hands on their way to Maruki’s palace. They don’t talk. They just stand as close as possible without actually touching. If the assembled group of thieves has any thoughts on Akechi arriving in Akira’s tow, they do not voice them. Akira pulls out his phone. Entering the Metaverse is always strange, like being tugged bit by bit and then jerked in all at once. They make their way towards the palace, Akira lingering in the back, unsure even as Joker, Arsene being unusually quiet in the back of his mind. He feels a clawed hand on his shoulder and catches it in his. He looks at Akechi and holds his gaze, the understanding passing gently between the two boys. Whatever lies ahead of them, they will face it together and they will not fail.


End file.
